


To Steal from Gods

by Anonymous



Category: Original Work
Genre: Cunnilingus, Cunnilingus from Behind, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Non-Consensual Oral Sex, Noncon - Victim is Convinced They Are Ruined, Noncon - Victim is forced to enjoy it, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Rape, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Simplicity, they preached; the very material they used to clothe their holy ones belied their words. Well. This one would not be so holy after tonight.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Female Human Character(s)/Original Male Human Character(s), Virgin Priestess/Male Enemy Warrior (OW)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 66
Collections: Anon Works, Id Pro Quo 2020





	To Steal from Gods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AmorousGreen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmorousGreen/gifts).



He bent her over the heavy wood of the table. Good thing it looked sturdy. She lay across the width of it, rear end in the air, legs dangling as the tops of her thighs just barely rested atop the carved surface. Her body would be covered in the little whorls which had been left in spiraling patterns of that table—among the other things he intended to leave on it. 

The silver of her robes shimmered in the light of the candles at each end of the rectangular table. It matched the silver circlet around her head, winking like a star in the dark hair which curled long under it. Simplicity, they preached; the very material they used to clothe their holy ones belied their words. Well. This one would not be so holy after tonight. 

He stroked her hair down over her back, his hand drifting onto cloth as soft as skin in itself. It stuck to the roundness of her backside—another extravagance, to display the curves of her small body even as it was fully clothed and beyond any mortal touch. Pleasure of the body made paramount, even as it was denied. They themselves were blasphemers.

His cock stirred painfully, demanding its own pleasure. He undid his leather belt, removed from it the knife and the pouch—containing more of the rags soaked in herbs he’d used to subdue her—and, pulling her arms behind her back, wrapped the length of the belt around her wrists, tight enough he could see her olive skin redden under the pressure. The first of his marks upon this sacred embodiment of the gods. 

She would wake up soon, he hoped. Temptation, in the form of her ass, stared him in the face. The act he was here to perform did not require him to resist it until she was conscious enough to be aware of him, but the power of it all would be heightened if she was. If she knew what she was feeling, and what it meant. He remembered how it had felt to hold her against him as she struggled, thrashing as he pressed the rag over her nose and mouth until she collapsed. She’d wriggled her bottom against him while she resisted, as though her body knew what awaited it, and sought it out. 

He slapped that bottom now, hard. The woman yelped. He smiled, sliding the ankle-length robe up her legs, keeping a tight grip on them as she jerked. Awake and lively. Good. She would make this experience the triumph he had wanted. His hands dragged her clothing up over the curve of her ass, then her hips. He lowered his face to the exposed cheeks, nuzzling. Softer even than the fabric which had covered them. They did not disappoint. He gave one a nip. 

The little priestess screamed, legs flailing now his hands had released them. The left one nearly got him in the cock. He caught it at the last minute, then grabbed her other leg, watching her squirm on the table, half-nude and still screaming. His night of defilement, nearly ruined by the attractions of the woman he had come here to defile. 

He released one leg to slap her ass again, harder, taking vicious satisfaction in how the soft flesh bounced under his hand, and in the desperation of her continued cries. Time to show her just how helpless he could make her. Hands moving to the thighs under her prettily reddening cheeks, he spread them wide. He lowered his face once more, now to the folds between her legs. She needed a good kiss. 

Her thighs trembled on either side of his face. The neatly trimmed coat of hair brushed his nose. He opened his mouth against her lips, let her have a little lick. Helped her out; the poor thing had them dry. She rewarded him with a little gasp. “Please don’t.” The words were hoarse after what she’d just put her throat through, and shaky too. There needed to be more reasons for her to sound like that. He extended his tongue again, brushing around her hole, keeping her thighs pinned apart—she strained, trying to buck her hips to get away. Her cunt began to get slick with more than his saliva. 

“Relax,” he murmured, not carrying whether she could hear him or whether she understood the words, muffled by her cunt as they were. The vibrations of his mouth moving against her, of his breath, created more vibrations to make her body shiver, and he used the distraction it created to slip one hand under her belly, drawing it down to join his mouth as it pressed into her pussy. She didn’t need to follow verbal instructions; the other kind would suffice. 

He cupped her clit. Then he stroked the edges of her lips with his tongue. As anticipated, she let loose a strangled, ragged moan. “No more kicking now, eh. What a spoiled girl, wanting to be a virgin and wanting to be fucked. How many of your fellows are the same? I wonder.” He sucked her lip into his mouth and pinched her clit. She squealed, bucking into his hand, into his mouth as he swirled his tongue over the tender flesh he’d just taken inside it. Humming, both because he was pleased and to send more vibrations, more sensations, through her body, he released the lip he’d caught and kissed it firmly, pinching her clit again. The little thing swelled and pulsed between his fingers as his little priestess pushed herself against them, chasing the pressure. He eased it in favor of giving her a light stroke, removing his mouth and rubbing his whole hand over her. She whined. 

It seemed he could afford to get into a more comfortable position. He knelt on the stone floor. Really, she should be thanking him. He was doing her a service, giving her the pleasure she knew she’d been refusing herself in order to be worthy of the pretty things she wore. Here she was, laid out on the table she’d used for sacred rites. Here he was, kneeling for her and everything. Offering whatever his body could give her, what her body required for satisfaction. She’d been taken from worshiper of an intangible holiness to the very tangible holiness being worshiped. And how she liked being worshiped. Her thighs pressed together, looking for the friction he’d taken away. He reached for her again, caressed his way up the backs of her legs before opening them up again to leave kisses on the insides of her thighs. She let them stay parted for him. 

For a moment, he enjoyed the view of her swollen cunt, listening to the sound of her ragged breathing. It wasn’t something she was alone in, he realized; his own breath was coming out in harsh pants. No wonder, after all his efforts to get that response out of her. He was, if he said so himself, doing an excellent job of providing fun for the both of them. She’d never want the privileges of her chosen office after this generous opportunity to sample those of an earthbound woman; fortunate, since she’d never have them again. Back in he would go. He gripped her knees tight and pushed his face into her cunt. 

She was delightfully wet, but not messy enough. It needed taking care of. He nuzzled her, rubbing his nose over her folds and letting her seawater scent fill it. She should get a chance to smell herself—taste herself, too. Later. He opened his mouth and laid the flat of his tongue against her. Her body shook around him. What would happen if he released his hold on her knees? Curious as to the answer, he let one go. Her leg rose over his shoulder and slid towards his neck to close her back up again, this time with his face still inside. He released the other one with a pat to her knee and she placed it over his other shoulder. Good girl. He had known he’d be able to get her following instructions without a word if he applied himself to the task of teaching her. A fine devotee like her must have been a fine student; it was a good learner he had in his hands. So to speak. They were a little empty right then. He returned them to their place at her cunt. They drifted over it, but did not press or pinch, despite the woman’s attempts to lean into his touch. His fine student needed new experiences to challenge her. 

He flicked his tongue over her clit. The gasp this elicited sounded frustrated. She tried to push back against his tongue, still looking for his attention. Did she find him wanting in his services now? Better show her that she had only had to wait. He laid a finger on her hole and pushed his way in. The yelp it produced made him smile against her folds. She stilled, squeezing him tight. Slowly, he rubbed the spot where he knew the other side of her clit to be. Now she could have his tongue back. Her little clit was all swollen, and she wanted him to get her drenched—how could he not oblige her? She was already so wet and whimpering for everything her life had deprived her of. It was his duty to deliver on the promises his hands and mouth had been making her. 

Dutifully, then, he resumed licking her clit. His tongue paid far more careful attention to it, swirling over the hood, while his finger pressed into her, stroked her inside, slow and firm. Her body pressed back, urgent, its juices all he could inhale. When she shook, finally, he lapped at them. Salty and sweet. Gently, he ran his fingers over the outer edges of her lips. Then he dislodged her legs from around his neck, pushed himself off the floor, and let himself look at her. Her legs hung motionless. Her ass, which had almost derailed his plans earlier, was bruised from the couple of smacks he’d delivered, and the little bite he’d taken. The silver robes had moved higher with her squirming, above her bound wrists, halfway up her back. Sweat stuck her dark hair to her neck. 

She was a mess now, thoroughly ravished. That would be enough, if it were only a matter of stealing her chastity. But it was not the end of the performance he had planned, and though she lay there limp, he knew there was more spirit in her than that. She’d take well to him taking her again a little differently. If she didn’t know it already, she would learn it. 

He flipped his priestess onto her back; she groaned, startled, but did not move as his survey of her continued. He’d been right about the carved surface of the table leaving an impression on her skin; her upper thighs and belly were red with them. Better make sure the rest of her torso matched. He pulled the robes all the way up to her collarbone, as far as they would go. The thin material gave him no trouble, staying where it was. 

Her bared breasts were as round and lovely as her bottom. He smiled at the stiffened peaks and, pulling her against his still-clothed cock, hands firm on her hips, he bent over to take one into his mouth. Held in place, she writhed deliciously. Be a shame to neglect anything. His lips opened wider on her breast, to let his tongue sweep over it. One hand rose to pinch the other nipple, then to cup the surrounding flesh of her breast, bouncing it. She wailed out a moan, arching her back and rubbing herself on him as his other hand kept her pressed up to his cock. 

He ground into her, and lifted his head up to speak, letting the breast in his mouth fall back against her chest. “You didn’t think we were done, I hope.” His gaze found hers as he pulled himself back up from her body, but her only answer was a squeak. Dark eyes, lips parted for her panting breaths, hair wet around her neck and shoulders from his night’s work. Breasts jiggling with every movement, cunt wet and swollen for him. She was beautiful, this little priestess he’d caught. She’d never needed her pretty clothes and pretty ornaments. She’d never wear them again. He reached for the circlet trapping her hair and wrenched it off, tossed it clattering to the floor. Then he reached for the delicate silver robe and yanked. 

“No, please.” Her eyes widened as it began to tear. 

“You still think you can go back?” He stopped to wave at her body, before continuing to work. 

She looked at herself, already fully naked before his fully-dressed form in its dark brown leathers. He was the one who had done this to her, this stripping of her role. His lust. His lust, which had brought out her own. Whether she had willed it or not, her body no longer served the gods. It had been twisted, forced to serve the purpose he’d had in coming here. 

“You came to take me away from the gods.”

He left the robe half-torn and bent down to the floor, coming back up with his knife. It served to cut the cloth off, so that it lay in a heap on the table around her shoulders. The tattered sleeves clung to her bound arms. 

“I came to take you,” he conceded, hands now on his trousers. “Can’t look away from this anymore,” he noted, as her eyes followed his fingers. “Nor should you. It won’t be the last time, and you should start learning from your first.”

“No, not again—” Her plea ended in a scream as he filled her. 

Mmm. Hot and tight inside her again, now with the part which had needed it most. He’d savored her in the literal sense; he would savor her again, in how she felt clenched around him. He slid his hands under her bruised ass and squeezed as he fucked her, nails digging into her flesh. She howled, tossing her head back, thrashing under him, breasts bouncing. How right he had been—she had life in her yet. 

He bent over her again, swallowing her howl in a kiss. His tongue pushed in, covered in her saltwater taste like his cock, letting her know her own flavor. His weight pressed down onto her, her breasts rubbing against him while he fucked her with his cock and his hands held onto her ass. 

Despite all he’d waited already, he wanted it to last, wanted her thoroughly ridden. He brought one hand away from its groping to reach back between her legs to pinch her clit. She squealed, and he kissed her again. Once again, she shattered around him, and he let her squeeze him dry. 

Her eyes closed. Perhaps now he’d tired her out. 

When he had chosen this course of action, he had planned to leave her on the table, splayed in their juices for her holy order to find. 

There was no reason why their juices, the ruined robes, and the discarded circlet wouldn’t be public enough. And what could be worse than if they thought she was gone, naked, still living in violation of her oaths? 

Yes. He had come to take her away. Her body was the kind of extravagance he, and she, were meant to indulge in. 

It would be hours before dawn. They had time for her to rest before leaving. They even, he decided, had time for him to wake her, sit on the table, and hold her in his lap while she danced on his cock again.


End file.
